We talk around the heart of our conversation
like fire flies compelled by the light’s attraction.
It seems almost fatalistic - the direction marked
even in the simplest of phrases by the uncontrollable
slow pauses between.
Yet we manage to pull away just in time.
saved by the distraction of sensibility
This is not a free world, the world of human beings.
We are constantly being watched: by roving
memories.
At night we share a dream canvas -
pointillist painters clarifying everything
we mean to say stroke by stroke, dot by dot.
When we meet we shyly glance into each
other’s eyes momentarily, checking on the progress
we’ve made, the treasures in lessening
the divide.
~© Michael Kelsey~
~Images are © Trina Drake, unless otherwise specified~
No comments:
Post a Comment